The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,71

didn’t like not knowing where he was and what he was doing. The arrow dude was a wild card and wild cards could bite you on the ass. Daniel decided he would kill the fucker if he saw him again, even if he was a cop, so long as it wouldn’t fuck up his shot at grabbing the cook and the waitress. Daniel didn’t want to kill them. He needed to take them alive, and save the killing for later.

Tobey said, “Kill’m.”

Cleo said, “Cut off their heads, heads.”

That was the plan. Cut off their heads, and ship’m to the Bolivians. The Bolivians liked creepy shit.

Daniel circled back to Azzara’s street and parked below the house, looking north toward Sunset so he could keep an eye on things. Daniel studied the surrounding houses and the traffic up on Sunset. The guards ignored his van. Stupid. Daniel checked the pedestrians crossing on Sunset, thinking he might spot the arrow dude again. He wondered where the big fucker was, and whether he was watching Azzara’s, or if the whole thing was just a coincidence and the dude was up there on Sunset getting another tattoo. Daniel stared at the billboard for a long time. Much of it was hidden by trees, but Daniel had considered using it earlier, and now he thought about using it again.

Daniel was watching the idiot in the Monte Carlo when a black limo passed and eased into Azzara’s drive. Daniel remembered the tag. The same car had brought the Mexican from the airport, which meant it was now going to take him back.

Daniel thought, “Adios, muchacho.”

Daniel was watching the limo when he caught a movement on the billboard through the trees. Someone was climbing down, and Daniel knew it was the dude with the arrows.

“MotherFUCK! He was watching the house!”

“Fuck, -uck, -uck.”

Thirty seconds later, the tall dude ran across the street at the light, heading toward his Jeep. He must have seen the limo, too, and now he was going to follow.

Tobey boomed, “Kill’m, kill’m.”

Cleo shrieked, “Get’m, get’m.”

“We can’t! We gotta stay on the house!”

Daniel smelled blood in the water, and knew he was close.

The Mexican, Azzara, a fat banger, and the cook came out and got into the limo. Daniel sat higher in the seat, and clenched the wheel until he thought his bones would pop through his skin. The cook and the waitress were separating, the cook going with the Mexican, the waitress staying at the house. Daniel was FUCKED!

Tobey murmured, “Mellow out, Daniel.”

Cleo cooed, “Easy, dude, easy.”

The limo backed out of the drive, then rolled up to Sunset.

“Easy, my ass! What about the cop? What if he bags the limo?”

Tobey said, “Let’m. He’s after the Mexican.”

Cleo said, “Take the waitress, Daniel. We’ll figure it out, out.”

Daniel felt as if his arms and legs were being yanked off at the joints, the cook ripping him in one direction, the waitress ripping him in another, but the voices were soothing. The voices helped him think.

Tobey whispered, “The waitress is here, get the waitress.”

Cleo hissed, “The waitress will give you the cook.”

Daniel knew they were right. He watched the limo disappear as it turned onto Sunset.

First he would take the waitress, then he would get the cook, and then he would have everything.

35

Elvis Cole

Cole wedged his phone under his ear, trying to reconcile what Pike was telling him. It felt as if Pike was describing one reality while Cole had been working to understand another.

“What you’re telling me is these people are not being treated like prisoners.”

“Four guards were outside the house, and at least two more were inside. You put guards on the outside, you’re not keeping someone in, you’re keeping someone out.”

“I don’t get it. How did a Trece crew go from shaking down Smith to being his host in three days?”

Pike didn’t respond.

Cole said, “Feel free not to answer.”

“The way they were shaking hands tells me it’s business. The private jet tells me it’s big business.”

“You get the tail number?”

Cole copied the number as Pike recited it.

“Okay. I’ll try to find out who owns it. Where are you going?”

“Back to Azzara’s.”

“Come here first. I want to go with you.”

Cole thought for a moment, trying to sort out the new facts.

“Someone is hunting these people. We know that for sure. We thought it was Mendoza and Gomer, but it wasn’t, and now Miguel Azzara is their best friend.”

“Yes.”

“Protecting them?”

“You go into business with people, you take care of them.”

“I can’t help wondering why a Trece street